The Survivor's Spark
by AlaskanFrog
Summary: In this story set before the events of the game, Joel and Tess go out on a run, and encounter some competition. Joel is challenged in the only way he can be, and remembers exactly why he chose to run with Tess. Also, gravity is a bitch and a moment of hesitation may turn deadly.
1. The Spark

It was the life in her eyes that Joel admired, although he would never say it. Their relationship was born of a power struggle, sometimes against the world, and just as often against one another. In this moment it was the complaining. While Tess had spent the last hour grumbling about their lot in life, more specifically, how she perceived a failing on Joel's part. Her eyes told a different story, one that Joel never missed. In contrast to her current verbal demeanor, her eyes blazed with that little spark, one that Joel could never quite find a name for.

As they stepped into a clearing in the ruble, Joel took in the sights: another gap between broken homes and shattered stories. He had a yard like this once. Although, he noted inwardly with a grunt, his yard had never looked this alive. As nature reclaimed the empty space, it burst into life, unconstrained by mans' attempt to trim and clip. The irony was not lost on him as he gazed upon the dilapidated house before him.

In that moment he decided to take a break. An annoyed sigh puffed out of Tess's mouth as she realized he was not keeping pace with her. Hands planted firmly on hips, she turned to face him and puffed a tassel of hair from in front her lips.

"Oh fer…" she paused for a moment "Damn it Joel, We do not have time fer this." She tilted her head to the side and pointed down the road. "Rocky says we gots a real score hidden deep in the city, we can't risk another person making off with whats ours." She took a step twords him "Get your lazy ass up". Joel could feel her gaze on the top of his head, and he smiled to himself as he rubbed the stress from his cheeks.

"Tess," he said leaning against the bark of a tree. "There's no way in hell them meds aren't gonna be there." A yawn made its way into the air as he scratched his stubbly chin. "We have all the time in the wor-". He was cut off as a clod of dirt smacked right in to his open mouth, skillfully sent on its way by an annoyed Tess.

His coughing and surprised look brought out the first smile on Tess's face Joel had seen all day. She crossed her arm after wiping the dirt off her hands and onto her pants.

"Oh son of bitch" he coughed spitting dirt and gravel onto the ground. "Damn it women, you almost knocked my fuckin tooth out". That earned a mischievous laugh from his companion as she leaned up against a tree.

"Oh Joel, whats tha matter? You was spewing out enough bullshit, I figured your mouth would feel right at home with the earth". He scowled up at her, but accepted her hand as she leaned forward to pull him up. With strength earned from years of hard living, she managed to pull up his muscled frame with little effort. The smile disappeared as she turned away from him. "Come on now, I aint risking us losing this much payment 'cus your lazy ass needed a break."

And on they went. The route was a known quantity to both of them, traveled often in their years of smuggling. They knew many ways in and out of the safe zones, and this one was a favorite of both. It possessed all the qualities that a good route should have; little to no infected, easy pathways to travel, and above all else, it was unknown to allmost everyone but the most skilled of travelers. A secret kept between the elite, and shared with no one. By skirting around the remnants of the outer suburbs, they managed to avoid traveling through crumbling buildings, which meant more visibility, and less surprises. This was preferable to the smugglers, as an encounter with the Federals could be just as bad for their likes as a run in with a pack of clickers.

Slowly but surely they walked towards the edge of the lower district. Their destination was a drop point several miles into the cities wreckage. This particular location was the balancing point for the easy pathway, where the trails took them safely around the suburban cataclysm, the drop was located within a maze of twisted ruble, rotting structures and naturally occurring deathtraps fueled by that most devious bastard: Gravity.

As they neared the danger zone, Tess's griping ceased, and they descended into a quite melancholy. Both had seen enough of their fellow smuggling kin killed by capricious acts of fate. A shifting floor had once sent the carcass of an industrial oven through a hole in the wall and onto the street bellow, which nearly smashed the both of them. Had they not stopped for a brief second to drink water, they would have likely been killed instantly… If they where lucky.

A chill went down Joel's spine as he remembered an encounter with an infected trapped beneath some ruble. Before he had met Tess, He often took work in the more dangerous city blocks, and once while scouring a basement for salvage, he had been horrified to find a clicker, in full bloom, pinned to the floor by a collapsed ceiling. The real horror sunk in as he saw the loaded gun nearby, and the bite mark on its leathery neck, as well as its torn and empty stomach cavity. It left Joel fairly certain that the poor bastard must have been trapped by a cave in, and with his weapon just out of reach, the SOB would have had nothing to defend himself from as the infected closed in to feast. Joel closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. The poor guy couldn't even take his own life to escape his fate. This was of course why the two of them worked together.

The next hour went by in silence as they neared the more treacherous zones, broken only by the scuffle of feet on ruble, or the occasional bark of a wild dog. To keep his mind busy Joel scanned the surroundings, the weight of his pistol a constant presence on his hip. His eye glanced amongst the densely plotted ruins, darting from wrecked car, to the ominously slanted skyscraper resting against its twin neighbor. Someday it would come crashing down as weather wore away at its supports, and Joel made a note to be far away when that day happened.

His thoughts where interrupted by a sudden halt from Tess as he walked into her. His feet slipped in the wet grass and he grabbed her arm to steady himself. A shard of anxiety burrowed into his mind at the feeling of her arm, the muscles where hard as rock. His eyes quickly took in the scene. Tess stood completely still, save the steam rising from her wet hair in the early morning sun.

"What is it" Joel whispered, as he sunk into a ready crouch, his previous calm evaporating quickly.

"I don't know" Tess quietly murmured. This caused him to instinctively tense up further. Years of running together bred an almost psychic connection, and Joel had long since learned to trust her intuition. "across the street" she whispered, still frozen. "I think I saw something in the Old Charlie's window".

That did not surprise him. Old Charlies was nickname they had given the ruins of a hole in the wall pub on this route. The location had served them well in the past, offering reasonable coverage of the surrounding area, as well as plenty of space to rest in comfortably, should a journey take longer than a day.

Joel instinctively reached for his gun, slowly finding its wooden grip with the tips of his finger. He drew it and flipped the safety in one slow but purposful motion. His peripheral vision caught Tess's hand doing the same, slowly moving back to her hip.

With a sudden crash and a flurry of movment the sign above the window gave way. Time slowed down as Joel and Tess reverted to that moment, Joel saw to his surprise the look of horror on Tess's face as her hand came up empty. Panic took over as her hand started the eternal track back down to her empty hip. Immediately Joel reached up, hooked his arm around her waist, and half pulled half tackled her to the ground, behind a pile of rubble.

"Oh shit, oh shit" she whispered, anger quickly replaced her panic as she desperately groped her hips, franticly searching for her sidearm. "What the fuck" she exclaimed in a horse whisper. Seeing that she was safely in cover Joel peeked around the corner of the half wall. The crash of the old sign as it shattered on the pavement sent brown streak out of the pub's broken window.

As the sound of hooves carried down the street and into the distance, Joel body faltered for a moment, and he collapsed onto his back.

"It was a deer," He exclaimed, as waves of relief crashed over his body. To his immediate right Tess was on her hands and knees, peering around the corner, mouth wide open. As she verified that they were in fact not in any danger, she also collapsed next to him, with her head on his chest, facing the sky, eyes closed. She took several deep breathes to calm herself.

"I…hate…those stupid… _fuckin_ animals" came her words, accentuated by her slight southern drawl. Several seconds went by as their breathing calmed. Normally Joel would have appreciated the view down her shirt, but in that moment, it just wasn't appealing.

Tess reached over to her pack, which had fallen off her shoulder as Joel tossed her to the ground. Inside her hand found the grip of her gun, and she sighed in relief.

"Tess," Joel started, "What in the hell where you thinking?" he chastised. "I don't see that gun doing you a lick of good in your pack". She took the comment well he realized. What would normally have evoked an irritated response seemed to cut into her tough demeanor. She waited a while before responding, her hand caressing the wooden grip , reassuring her mind that defense was once again within arms reach.

"I fucked up," she said quietly. The realization of her mistake having the effect of neutering her usually fiery attitude. It got quite as they both listened to the world around them, half searching for the audible clue of infected coming to the cause of the commotion, and half taking in the gravity of the situation. Had the deer been an infected, or even worse, another person, Tess would be, in all likelihood another victim of the outbreak. They had both seen to many people killed by one simple error.

"Yeah, I see that Tess," he responded. "I'm asking why". She sat up, drawing the gun from her pack. After a quick scan of the surroundings, her eyes found their way to the metal exterior. Tess slowly dropped the magazine, checking to make sure the gun was loaded. A slight pull on the slide revealed a .45 caliber round neatly in the chamber. She climbed to one knee and turned to face him.

"I don't know Joel," she said. As she slid the gun into her waistband, their eyes met, and Joel saw the spark flicker. It did not leave, but was subdued in that moment of weakness. Shame brought her eyes downwards, and she stood to her feet.


	2. A Simple Sunbeam

Chapter 2

Joel and Tess stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down at an empty satchel. A small trickle of blood made its way down Tess's finger, the reward for an enraged punch to the wall. Her tongue was uncharacteristically still, her temper still muted by the earlier mishap. A glance over to Joel didn't give her much, his face was like granite. She looked back down at the bag and sighed. Deep inside, her mind raced. She wanted to blame Joel, or Rocky, or someone for this ill turn of events. However the worst part was that she knew she really couldn't. They left on time that morning, and Joel had even refrained from his nightly drink in order to be clear of mind for their daily work. The travel had been timely, it just appeared that they were unlucky. Someone or something had gotten here first.

The satchel lay open on the ground, its remnants tossed about haphazardly. Only the antibiotics where missing, which left a fair amount of other useful supplies on the ground. That was the strangest part of it all, thought Tess. If it was a person who had stolen the Antibiotics, why in the hell did they leave behind the other supplies? Furthermore, the down payment of three ration cards each where left strewn about on the floor. What type of person needed medicine, but not food?

Tess moved ever so slightly to her side, and leaned up against Joel, head resting on his shoulder.

"Damn it", she groaned, finally breaking the silence. Joel didn't break his gaze on the mess before them, but let out a low sigh. "You don't suppose an infected took them do you?" she asked expecting no response.

"It sure as hell looks that way" came Joel's reply. That surprised her. He wasn't one for talking, if nothing needed to be said. After the years they had spent running together, she still hadn't decided if it was a shield he had in place, or if the man simply didn't have much to say.

"But that doesn't make any sense." She said. "They can't think, much less choose to rummage through a bag, and just happen to take the antibiotics". Joel looked over his shoulder, down to her exhausted eyes.

"No, I suppose not." He said, closing his eyes. He looked back down at the mess. Tess pulled away from him as he crouched down to inspect the bag closer. "You know, this bag couldn't have been out here longer than a few hours, right?" he asked, looking up to her. She nodded and crossed her arms. It made sense actually, Rocky never liked to leave things up to chance, meaning that he would have scheduled the drop to coincide as close to the pick up as possible, in order to minimize the exposure to a random scavenger. "Therefore, odds are whatever took our stuff can't be that long gone, right?" he said, looking up to her. She nodded, hope creeping back into her mind. This wasn't a lost cause yet.

"Well shit," she said as Joel stood up. "Let's try and find our stuff". It was her response that garnered the bigger surprise of the two.

"Joel, that means that we are going to have to take it back from whoever took it." She didn't necessarily have a problem with taking action, but confrontation meant risk, and with the morning mistake fresh in her mind, mortality seemed all the more real to her.

Her comment shook him deeper than he would ever admit to her, much less himself. This was not the mindset that he had come to know. Tess was a woman who knew how to take care of herself, and with her notorious short temper, The idea of someone taking what was hers should have inspired a longing for immediate and wrathful retribution.

"Yeah Tess, but that's never stopped us before," he said pulling his gun from his waistband. He broke eye contact wither her, and gave his gun a quick look ever, and even cycled a round through the chamber as if to accentuate his point. It was an oddly cocky move for a man who was known for walking softly, and carrying a big stick. However it seemed to have the desired effect as a slight smile broke on Tess's worried face.

She leaned forward and picked up the unspent round off the ground. Pinching the bullet between her fingers she stood up and extended it up to his face. Her eyebrow furrowed, and her characteristic scowl reappeared.

"Fine Joel," she said, rotating the bullet in front of his eyes. She snatched it into the palm of her hand, enclosing it with all her fingers, and then slapped it directly into his sternum. He let out a pained grunt and frowned. "But," she growled, looking directly into his eyes, "let's try not to use this unless we have too?"

That was the fire that he was used to. He couldn't tell if it was a show she put on for his sake, or if she had overcome a momentary attack on her confidence, but he relaxed slightly hoping that his little flourish had had the desired effect.

Joel nodded and went about putting the bullet back into the magazine. Tess bent over once more to grab some of the leftover supplies left in the pack. They busied themselves checking gear, and generally preparing for the possibility of conflict. Ammo was recounted for the hundredth time, Water levels where checked, and most of all, bags where shook to expose any unchecked bits, lest the clinking of a loose strap gave away their position, or the clanking of a magazine against a canteen draw the attention of a clicker.

As Joel checked his pack, it suddenly dawned on him that Tess was not moving. He glanced up at her, and saw that her face was now illuminated by a midday sunbeam cutting through a broken window. In that moment he saw the slight smile gracing her visage as she enjoyed the warmth. There the two where, standing in the skeleton of an old office building, surrounded by the shambles of human society. In that moment neither was a victim, nor a predator. They just…where. For a several glorious moments Tess took in the sun, and Joel took in Tess, and both smiled.


	3. Ghost

Chapter 3

It would be looked back upon in the future as a terrible move. It came from a series of understandable mistakes, but the consequence was none the less deadly. What compelled two veteran survivors to allow such a mistake to linger is not easily explained. Sometimes even the best simply make mistakes. In this instance, it was an action as simple as allowing curiosity to overrun good sense, and not immediately regrouping after becoming separated. In a world where survival is all too often decided by cruel chance, having a partner is the only way to improve one's odds. Upon engaging in random acts of searching the ruins of the old world, following clues, and trying to quickly find a missing treasure, two people may start looking in separate rooms; one climbs a ladder, the other ducks under a fallen support beam, and while each assumes the other is right behind them, two experienced survivors make a rookie mistake.

That much was understandable. That much was forgivable. However, upon noticing that separation had occurred, it was absolutely unacceptable for either to allow an ambitious attempt at success to distract them from immediately regrouping. "I'm sure he's fine" one thinks in an attempt to reassure herself that she can make up for an earlier mistake. "I used to run by myself all the time", thinks another, in a vain excuse to justify just one more searched room. "I'll head back in just a second", both think, and vanity, pride, and ambition allow two people who should know better to make the most deadly of mistakes.

There was a slight stich in his side as Joel reached the top of the building. Passing by several landings with open doors, He looked down each hallway as he passed, briefly listening for obvious signs of infected. His intent was a vantage point. From across the plaza this building seemed to offer the best view of the surrounding area. At 20 or so stories, it towered over the industrial zone. In the distance the leaning office building easily dwarfed it, but that was a half an hour in the wrong direction. Trusting in years of experience earned by successfully navigating the world of infected wretches, Joel gave little thought to the perils of the unexplored building as he hurried up each landing. If the thieves had taken their supplies as early as an hour before their arrival at the empty cache, then this vantage point could easily allow him the perspective to find them. There was just as much reason to assume that the thieves were still in the area celebrating their lucky find, as to assume they hightailed it with his gear.

Once again Joel allowed his hurried attempt at recovery to dull his senses as he stepped from the near pitch-black stairwell into the sunny morning air. The change caused his eyes to squint as the natural apertures reacted to the sudden influx of light. He cursed under his breath, and gazed across the rooftop. There was a maze like structure of the old air conditioning unit blocking his easy transversal of the concrete plateau. A second curse came forth as he hopped over the metallic half-walls. As he neared the edged of the roof, fate reached out to punish his haphazard technique.

The odds of it all would forever haunt his dreams. As he vaulted over the last of the metallic pipes, the front of his right shoe caught on the sharp edge, making it impossible for his foot to be where it was needed in order to catch his forward momentum. At that exact second the sharp report of a rifle muffled out his third curse a he fell forward. The bullet ripped through the air above his head. His life was spared by his previous misstep as he smashed into the roof, sliding cross the concrete on palms, a shoulder, and one extremely painful cheek bone. Years of survival kicked in as he quickly pushed himself to knees. His cognitive abilities had not yet caught up with his instinct. He was already hunched against the conditioning vent with his pistol drawn before it really sunk it. Someone had shot at him Someone just shot at me, he thought as his eyes widened. His heart was already pounding from the trip, and the sudden realization served to add fuel to the fire. Holy shit. His breathing was rapid as his mind began to race. Where did the shot come from? He looked around to his let and right, and saw nothing. Suddenly his darting eyes froze, and he looked up into the skyline. Had it come from out there? Was he exposing himself to a ranged assassin? In his panic, he had reacted as if the bullet came from behind, and taken cover in response to that assumption. No, he realized. He'd be dead by now if that was the case. Besides, the only building tall enough to give a rifle adequate height was too far away. That ment the shot had come from behind. But there was no one else on the roof when he walked out. That had to mean… Damn it, They came up behind me. In that moment Joel's eyes lit up with determination. Self-accusations and curses would come later. He had no intention of dying on this roof.

The movies of his youth he failed to prepare Joel for the reality of what actual gun based combat was usually like. Two parties with machine guns, and infinitely large magazines yelling curses and trading sprays of lead made for a good cenimatic spectacle, but utterly failed at matching the reality of such an encounter. Where Hollywood had relied on flash and violence to entrap moviegoers, in the real world, such exchanges usually entailed several frantic moments of quite shuffling and jocking of positions as each party attempts to get the drop on another. A person only needs one bullet to stop another human.

It was obscenely quite on the roof as the two parties hugged cover. Joel's heartbeat pounded in his chest, and in his ears as he took in his surroundings. If he was to survive, he had to get a bead on whoever had taken the shot. He was effectively blind as he leaned against the half wall created by the pipe. There was no reason to assume that whoever had taken the shot was not still looking down their sights, waiting for him to peak his head up. This limited him to his other senses, so he closed his eyes, and focused on the audio clues.

After several moments of scuffling and shifting weight, Joel's ears picked up a voice.

"Do you think you got him?", came a hushed male voice from across the roof. Joel couldn't make out the second voices response, but the first voice's question was encouraging. In it he heard doubt. Doubt meant fear, and fear meant mistakes. He simply had to exploit those mistakes. "I think you got him," the voice said again. It had a shaky confidence to it. "Ill go check it out". That was exactly the mistake he was waiting for, and he repositioned himself to strike.

There was four rows of ventilation ducts that Joel had stepped over in his path to the vantage point. The sound of a human being sliding over the hollowed steel metal framework made a racket, and told Joel exactly where the intruder was in relation to his own position. One slide, two slide, and Joel moved himself to be exactly in line with his approaching victim. If the rifleman was still covering the assaulter, it stood to reason that placing himself on the other side of the attacker created the chance that the approaching man would block his mates field of vision. Joel took several deep breathes, assuring that no noise escaped him mouth. His legs were like compressed springs as he slowly pulled the hammer pack on his gun. Time began to dilate in his mind, his whole focus on the next few seconds.

As the sound of the attacker crossing the third pipe hit his ears, Joel exploded into action like a shark hunting its prey. Both legs fired off at the same time, and raised his body up from the cover. At the same time, his back arched forward into a firing position as both arms reached forward, pushing the gun up and level with the man's chest. For spilt second he could see the shock as the man's eyes widened. The attackers arm began the impossibly long distance from his side as he tried to bring his own gun up. However Joel had timed his own action to catch the man off balance from his vaulting. Pity almost made it's way into his mind, almost.

Joel's finger squeezed the trigger on his gun three times. The first bullet struck the man in the chest. The second and third bullets struck higher respectively, with a red puff from the back of his head showing Joel's success to the rifleman. Said rifleman was caught off guard as Joel's positioning perfectly put himself out of sight, blocked by the rapidly collapsing body. And then, just as quickly as he had sprung up, Joel was back down. One down.

The rifleman did not react well to the sudden turn of events.

"Oh God, Jared No!" he screamed out into the air, followed by an enraged sob. "You Mother Fucker!", came his frantic shriek, and he opened fire on Joel's position. Once again Joel's instincts saved him, as the hail of bullets tore through the sheet metal, and over his prone body. It was a racket beyond anything he had ever experienced. Being on the receiving end of gunfire several times in the past had not prepared him for the sudden storm of lead he found mere inches above his face. Pieces of torn sheet metal peppered his skin as the bullets ripped steel apart as if it where confetti. The bullets sailed over the edge of the building, and presumably slammed into the streets below. SO much for precision he thought as the scene began to play out exactly like one of his old Hollywood movies.

One of the cardinal rules of combat is that a person must always keep their cool, and let their reason their rule passion. For example, it is always advisable to count ones bullets, so an empty magazine does not come as a surprise. The man's frenzied trigger pulls emptied the gun quickly, and he continued to pull the trigger several more times as before he realized the gun was empty. The clicking of a hammer on an empty chamber was the signal Joel was looking for. He pushed himself back into the ready position, with the intent to spring back into action.

However as he rolled over to his knees, his head found itself looking under the gap between the duct and the roof, peeking through a gap mere inches wide. Much to his shock, He saw a second set of feet approaching his position. Damn it, there was more than two? Something also niggled at the back of his mind. This set of feet belonged to a person who seemed to make far less noise as it transversed the sheet metal structures. That's odd, he thought. Regardless, he pushed back up, ready to give this person the same treatment as before. Once again time Dilated. His legs snapped him up, out of cover, and he drew beads onto…

While fate had spared him earlier with his fall, This moment seemed to prove that it's intention was not kind, but instead cruel. In that exact second, a domino fell, The chain of which would lead to the death of something deep inside him. As he drew sights on his target, his vision began to make out who was before him. He had expected another grizzled man, or perhaps the smooth form of a highly trained federalist. He would have even been okay with the pale and clammy skin of an infected.

Instead, standing before him was a young girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen years of age by the looks of it. He froze for a spilt second, and took in her sight. She had short blond hair, and a pair of ratty glasses covered her childlike gaze. Where he expected to find a hunter of men, he instead saw the very visage of innocence. Memories flooded into his mind and stole his breath away. Whatever sense of sanity he had managed to cling to since that fateful night was obliterated. He didn't even notice as his hands loosened around the grip of his gun, and it fell to the ground. His vision began to blur, and he felt the stinging of tears upon his torn up cheek.

"S-Sara?", came a barely audible whisper from his mouth.

She looked back into his eyes, and with tears of her own, pulled the trigger on her gun. Joel hit the ground hard, and everything went black.


	4. The Wounded Heart

Chapter 4

Pain is one of the most misunderstood processes of the human body. We people in the western world, in our lives of relative comfort and ease see pain as something wholly negative, worthy only of being stomped out, many other people in the world have come to recognize it as one of the surest signs that they are still alive. Pain is the natural result of a body attempting to inform its own that something is in need of attention. It is uncomfortable because anything else could and would be ignored. It is one of the greatest blessings and tools that humans have.

The mere ability to recognize that he was in darkness was proof enough that Joel was still alive. Shreds of thoughts began to flutter into his mind as he slowly gained awareness_. He couldn't be dead_ he would later reflect, _for dead men feel nothing_. For a few subtle seconds, Joel knew peace unlike anything he had known for many years. There was no stress, no worries, and fear. For a split second Joel just…was.

It was not long however until his memories snapped back into place. At that same second of realization, his sensory inputs flooded back into reality. At once the horrific pain in his leg and the haunting specter of his daughter cause a physical reaction from Joel. His whole body jerked with the sudden onslaught of emotional and physical pain. His eyes snapped open and quickly blasted shut once more as the light of the sun blinded him. The whole experience lasted less than a second, but was enough to allow his trained mind to make yet another mistake. The same pain which bore evidence of his life also gave birth to a quite groan. The implications of that mistake reached his mind almost as soon as the sound escaped his lips. Had he just given away the fact that he was alive to a predator?

The short answer was yes. In one way the predator which stood before him was both a blessing and a curse. Were it a clicker he would now be dead. Were is a wild animal, his neck would surely be broken. Yet in the same faucet, were it an animal his death would be fast. However the hatred born of pain and loss which stood before him would surely be anything but.

While pain is one of mankind's greatest tools, _it still hurts_. The more philosophical appreciation of his current state was lost on Joel as a sharp kick to his side broke one of his ribs. The slight grunt evolved into a groan and a yell, followed by a brutal fit of coughing. Instead of giving him a second to compose himself, the figure above him ripped his attention upward with the application of cold steel to his forehead. Through the pain his eyes focused up the length of a rifle, and into eyes poisoned with rage.

"I should kill you." The voice rasped.

_But you haven't _thought Joel. This was not a good thing. Eyes that enraged did not leave the focus of their rage alive for anything but the most nefarious of purposes. "You killed Jared." It hissed down at him. There was nothing for Joel to say. How could he reason with this man? There was no point in denying the facts. He _did _kill this Jared. However the fact that Jared had shot at him first seemed lost on this man with the gun. Reason would be no ally of Joel's today. _Unless…_

In the silence of the accusation, Only Joel's breathing broke the stillness. The man stood motionless. This was a surprise; Joel had expected the quick bravado and aggression of a predator with cornered prey. He lay before something unknown, though he now suspected a cold rage. A furrowed brow ruled out the chance for clinical appraisal, and a quick shift of the man's head sent reflected light giving away the presence of tears. The silence and the tears were quickly giving raise to fear within his chest. A chill rippled down Joel's arms. Jared must have been a family or friend. And Joel had killed him.

A small voice broke the silence "Uncle, what's happening". Memory flooded into Joel as he remembered the girl. It wasn't Sarah, yet her Spector had caused a faltering on his act. This memory could very well be the death of him.

"He's awake little one" the man responded. His voice had instantly changed from harsh and angry to sorrowful as he addressed her.

Joel's gaze moved from the intimidating figure before him to the waifish shape peaking from behind his back. In the rubble of the rooftop, a beam of light split between two concrete slabs and illuminated her golden hair. While matted and tangled, its glow triggered a flood of emotions within him. She looked so much like Sarah…

Her voice, almost a whisper, possessed a presence and quality incongruent with its owner.

"I wish I killed you". The final word gave way to the underlying sob as the young women stepped into his vision. A too large revolver slung over her back in a leather holster, its handle within easy reach. Her hair was a golden blond which retained its glow as she passed out of the sunbeam, and it was cropped short. He could have easily mistaken her for a young boy at a glance. However her feminine features declared a brilliant road map to potential beauty once she grew into an adult. What he noticed above all else however was that even filled with rage and tears, her eyes shown with a radiance of life-

"We still can", the gruff voice responded.

Before his reason could mute his words, Joel blurted out "Who was Jared?" The man's eyes narrowed and he pressed the barrel painfully deeper.

"My father, you _bastard." _came the girls response, barely a hiss. She crouched down, wisely out of Joel's reach, and slowly reached for her revolver. "You killed him." If ever there was a time for tact, Joel realized this was it. The simple fact that he was not yet dead meant one of two things. They were either hesitant to shoot an injured defenseless man, or they wanted him awake when he died. Joel desperately hoped for the former.

"I am truly sorry that happened," Joel started, using all his control to keep his eyes soft and un-accusatory. "But surely you realize that I didn't shoot first." He let that hang in the silence, accusing with all the grace he could muster, lest the man decided to pull the trigger. A quick glance saw the man's threatening demeanor falter, albeit just a for a moment. Joel made note of that.

The gruff voice muttered a response. "We were with a child, and you were hunting us. Of course we shot first."

They were responding to his challenge, even defending their actions. This meant they could be reasoned with, _potentially_. He had to gain their trust. They had to have zero suspicion of bullshit on his part.

He slowly and quietly spoke his next words. "I was _following_ someone, or something" came his words, spoken as if they had caught him in the act, He paused as if waiting for permission to speak. The pressure on his forehead let up ever so slightly, and eyes grew less angry. Hearing no response, he continued. "However, I was not _hunting._ We had some supplies taken, and I was hoping to get them back… _without violence" _For a split second, Joel's hope was kindled. The countenance of the man changed ever so slightly, the clarity of revenge and justice against a deserving enemy had crashed head on into a tragedy of errors, and the most dangerous of reactions crossed into the man's mind: Doubt. Maybe they were in the wrong, Maybe Jared had started a fight he couldn't win, and maybe they were about to commit murder, not justice… Maybe-

"Do you think _HOPE_ can bring my father back to life?" exploded the girl, the revolver in her hands. She violently stood up, and leveled the gun down at his chest. "I don't give a good god damn about what you _hoped. _I don't care about what you _intended."_ She took a deep breath leaning forward and screaming into his face, "MY FATHER IS FUCKING DEAD!"

She let out a deep sob and turned away, screaming tears into the earth. The man with the gun turned to look at her, away from Joel. It was the last mistake he would ever make. His left hand gripping broken pieces of glass, Joel exploded into action. Getting his shoulder inside of the rifles range, he quickly pulled himself past the barrel effectively leaving such a long weapon useless. As he launched upward, he slammed the glass into the tender area at the back of the man's leg. A shriek of pain was immediately drowned out by the report of a rifle shot. Joel's skin was burned as the red hot barrel rubbed against his exposed shoulder. Shards of concrete peppered his legs as the round exploded into the floor. In one smooth motion Joel twisted the man's hand down, causing the rifle to drop, and delivered a stunning blow to his face causing him to go limp. The unconscious mass of the man's form collapsed down onto Joel, and when combined with his damaged leg, pinned Joel onto the floor. Within a second what had been a scene of helplessness had transformed into Joel holding razor sharp glass to the unconscious man's neck, with his body on top of Joel's. The young girl screamed in horror and rage and turned to level her gun at the both of them.

"You fucker!" she screamed "Let him go!" It wasn't fair anymore. There was no way that she could come out ahead in this instance unless she risked it all on a headshot. She knew well that she could not put down her gun, and make herself prey to this unknown danger, yet she also could not force Joel's hand. She was helpless; And Joel hoped she hadn't realized it yet. Desperate people do dangerous things.

"Let's talk" Joel said to her, grunting with the exhaustion and pain of his outburst.

"Let him go" she demanded.

"You'll kill me" he responded.

"I'll kill you if you don't" She retorted.

"And I'll kill him before I die". Joel started into her eyes without blinking. This person before him was only a child. He did not want to hurt her. However he was no fool. Her status as a child had no bearing on her ability to pull a trigger. Her earlier out bust demonstrated the truth of that. The chilling truth was that even this child could feel a murderous rage. Truth be told, as precarious as her position was, his was not much better. Trapped and unable to move without serious effort, all she would have to do is walk away, pretend to abandon her uncle and wait for Joel to succumb to exhaustion. He was wounded, she was not. His only saving grace was the immediate danger he posed to the unconscious form on top of him. He was in control at this moment, but time was not his ally.


	5. Two With One Stone

It was the sound of gunshots that got Tess running, but it was the fear of loss that kept her going long after tiring out. Moving quickly through the rubble of an apocalypse is quite the task. Several times she had to hold herself still, or relegate her pace to mere crawl in order to avoid other dangers, lest in her panic she got herself killed. This of course enraged her, and motivated her through a twisted ankle and more than one cut born against jagged ruins. The helpless feeling of knowing there is danger, but being unable to act twisted in her mind with other emotions, and threatened to demolish her cautioned progression. Yet she had not lasted this long without iron discipline. And so, while fear for Joel exploded through her every fiber, she kept her calm.

How had they become separated? She knew better than to let that happen. Two rookie mistakes in the same day, and no real explanation is sight for the failures. For all intents and purposes Tess was just having a bad day. The problem was that while in her former life such realities born nothing more than frustration, in this world death stalked at every corner. She could afford no more mistakes.

There were few ways in which Joel could have gone, and Tess knew them all by memory. Simple signs of human presence narrowed down the options to the point of certainty and gave her a sure path to follow. At one junction between two halls, a wrong turn lead her face directly through a stand of spider silk. This simple annoyance was a blessing of providence as it told her a simple truth, no human taller than her had yet gone down this halllway in recent time, or they would have destroyed the web. She quickly changed course. Another choice was narrowed at the sight of moss covered stairs, with a fresh patch of moss removed from the stone lip. Only a human sized creature would have the weight to rip moss off with a footstep. And so the smuggler made her way bit by bit through the wasteland blossoming with life until she came to an open plaza with one building in the middle. Relatively tall, such a building would offer a brilliant vantage point for explorative purposes, and while she knew little about the dynamics of sound, it stood to reason in her mind that such a height place would have allowed the sound of gunshots to travel to her.

At the base of the building, Tess looked straight up in the heat of the day. The overhead sun glinted off the edge of the building revealing something metallic hanging over the edge. IT appeared to be some sort of metal tube, possible a heating duct? Her agitated state was not helped by the blazing state as she looked for meaning, anything really, in the mess before her. Her eyes followed the edge of the building to a partial collapsed wall jutting from the top. Some sort of control room perhaps? A quick glance to the bottom level revealed an open door, perhaps –

A faint sounds interrupted the stillness of her thoughts. A scream from high above echoed down to her level. "MY FATHER IS FUCKING DEAD". Concern, fear, hope, and purpose unified into a simple feeling. _RAGE. _ Cold fury iced into her veins. She had already failed Joel twice today, and she dared to hope that it was not to late… The sound of a yell and a single gunshot hit the ground she had stood upon but found it empty. Its intended receiver already on the move into the building. Rage and redemption thundered. Joel was not alone.

It was not a good time to be alone Joel realized. The girls gun trembled as she shook, enraged to speechless fury. But she wasn't acting. He had her in a spot, as her diminutive figure towered over his pinned and wounded frame. But she had him in one as well. Both were completely alone. The true misery was that both could live through this encounter. All she had to do was walk away. All he had to do was to put the razor edge of glass down. She gets her uncle, Joel gets his life. No one else had to die, yet Joel suspected that backing down would be the last thing she would do. Still, in this moment his only weapon was his words.

"I don't want to hurt him" Joel stated, clearly and simply. If the girl was open to reason, her face showed no signs of it. The scowl twisted with rage only seemed to intensify.

"Let him go!" she screamed, straining the gun closer to him. She quickly blinked her eyes to move the tears out of them.

"I can't" Joel repeated in the same calm simple way. "I don't want to die, and you want to kill me". A sudden thought occurred to him. Thinking of his time as a father, he remembered that Sarah had always responded better when he asked her questions. Perhaps… The girl said nothing but kept her gun leveled. "Like I said, I don't want to hurt him, but I assure you I will." The second half of his statement narrowed into a low growl. Before she could respond he continued "How can we solve this?"

"Fuck you!" she choked out, this time with more of a sob than rage.

"Think!" he commanded, like a teacher with a student. "Think. How can we solve this? How can all three of us make it out of here?" He gestured to the man as he said all three. "You shot first. Your group tried to kill me. I'm not looking for revenge, Hell, you can keep the supplies. I just want to live. I'm guessing you do too." She swallowed hard, and he saw the gun lower ever s slightly.

The girl's will to live was beginning to overcome her anger. She was being offered a way out, and it appeared she just might take it.

" You'll kill me" she whispered, as the tears intensified.

Joel's countenance softened, as he looked her in the eye and said in a near whisper. "Child, I already saw a young girl die once, I got no intention of seeing it again." The truth was that he really didn't. He had no intention of dying, but the memory of what happened before still haunted him.

His words had the desired effect. Closing her eyes for just a moment, a look of resignation passed over her face, and she lowered the gun. "Thank you" he said with all the sincerity in the world.

Life isn't fair. In a moment that could have been healing, Tess burst forth onto the roof. In her rage and shame of the past, she saw a situation without the prior context of conversation while she ascended the tower. With the scream still fresh in her ears, she took in the sight of Joel on his back, a gunshot to his leg, and a person with a gun standing in front of him. As the exploded into the scene, the person with the gun started to raise it, a look of panic in her eyes. Tess didn't see the look of concern, not fear in Joel's eyes, and instead she did the only logical thing when presented with the scenario. Unwilling to be taken off guard, or to lose her advantage, he gun centered in on the targets chest and she let loose two rounds.

Two people died on the roof. One in body, and another in spirit. The horrifying memories of the past threatened to flood back into Joel and overwhelm him. In that split second he faced a choice which is hard to name, yet is experienced by many a victim. He could be overwhelmed by the horror of repeated monstrosity, for the death of a child in nothing less than that, or he could raise his barrier, and separate the ways ideas and hope of before from the reality of today. In that split second Joel chose to be a survivor. Instead of being overwhelmed the tragedy of it all, Joel quickly chose a new fantasy, irrationally called "Harsh Reality", where the action committed in front of him was labeled "unfortunate but necessary for survival." In that split second what should have been soul crushing was instead relegated to fester in the darkest corners of his soul, justified in the name of "surviving". For after all, he was survivor. He had the iron will and the courage to survive when others did not. It never occurred to him that in the end, something's are more important than survival. The little body in front of him hit the ground, and blessedly made no noise. As her soul departed to the great unknown, the concept of decency took hope that she would soon be reunited with her father.


End file.
